


Putting My Misery on Display

by Princesszellie



Series: Prompts and Drabbles [29]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Hansencest - Freeform, M/M, its all down hill from here, mutual self destruction at its finest, selfdestruction at its finest, shit just got dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 05:20:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6225577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princesszellie/pseuds/Princesszellie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While fresh off the battle field, Herc and Scott learn why PTSD should never be mixed with drugs and alcohol. And that sometimes bad decisions lead to actions that are neither excusable nor forgivable- in any circumstance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Putting My Misery on Display

It was a mistake. Herc knew it from the start. His phone had started ringing the second his boots hit ground, not even twenty-four hours back from an overseas bid from hell. How Scott got wind of his return he had no idea; he had stopped questioning the other man’s methods a while back mostly out of respect. As a man with methods of his own he got it.

But that didn’t excuse letting himself be talked, begged and then as a last resort _blown_ into attending this fiasco. He was way too strung out for all the lights, noise or people. The post mission jitters were still very strong and Herc was having difficulty coping with them. So he reverted to what he always did to take the edge off- which would have been fine if he had stopped after the third shot of Fireball, or the two chasers of straight whiskey. But the demons refused to be silenced. He stopped counting long before Scott got bored and decided they could leave.

Even after they had left the chaos of the rave and were in the quiet sanctuary of his own apartment, Herc couldn’t get a handle on his nerves. Familiar objects took on sinister life in the half light of the bedroom. Things that had no being of their own took on the form of enemies meaning to do him harm. You could leave the Sandbox, but the Sandbox never completely left you; and Herc had not had a good tour, the dust clung to him even now. Not even all the whiskey he had downed earlier could wash the grains out from between his teeth.

Scott on the other hand was supercharged and in complete control of whatever bright colors he was experiencing at any given moment. All the world was a stage for him and he was always up for a show; and the show he enjoyed most involved being naked.

That was all well and good with Herc, violent sex was often the answer to many of his life problems-but it was never that simple with Scott. Of course, that was one of his charms, but sometimes it was a huge detraction. Like when the cocaine made its usual appearance.

Herc had never really understood in the whole mind altering drugs for recreational use thing. He knew their powers on a personal and intimate level as a torture and interrogation tool; they held no appeal for him off the clock. Scott always offered, and he always declined; but tonight things were all sorts of FUBAR.

“You’re so tense baby,” Scott breathed against Herc’s shoulder, where he had been kissing and nibbling obvious to his partner’s inner struggles. Instead of screaming and gunfire he heard music in his head, and he hummed the tune of the moment softly against the tattoo darkened patch of skin his lips hovered over. It was probably only in his imagination that it _tasted_ different. All of Herc tasted like angst and regret tonight; his mouth, his skin-it was a total downer. He didn’t enjoy being down, which of course meant it was time for _his_ upper.

Suddenly, Scott had the awesome idea that he needed to do his line off of Herc’s to die for six pack abs. It didn’t take much effort to get his partner in the perfect supine position and before Herc got an inkling of what was up, the blow was in a perfect white line running up from his naval.

“What the hell?” he asked leaning up on his elbows.

“Shhhh, no! Don’t move!” Scott snapped and pushed him back down. “Don’t ruin it.”

Herc rolled his eyes and obeyed his already tweaking overlord. With frighteningly well practiced ease Scott snorted the power off Herc’s ridiculously fit body. Scott’s breath against his fever warm skin made him shiver, and he couldn’t resist running his fingers in the other man’s thick auburn hair. Scott looked up at him, his electric hazel and blue green eyes already dilated. A very fine dusting of the precious substance clung to Herc’s skin and deliberately maintaining the intense eye contact, Scott licked it up with a long, slow drag of his tongue.

A soft, low moan escaped Herc and Scott felt the vibrations the sound sent through his body- it was like a bass line, or a soft melody and it was _intoxicating._ He wished Herc could feel things the way he did; being high was the purest way to experience the world.

Scott’s tongue still hung from his mouth in silent offering of the opportunity to join him chasing the rainbow, and in perhaps the poorest decision of the night, Herc took it. He wrapped his fingers tighter in Scott’s hair, and as the other man’s eyes flared in shock, pulled him close and kissed him deeply. A little squawk of surprise escaped his mouth before it was filled with Herc’s seeking, demanding tongue.

The sound morphed into a whimper of pleasure and anticipation as Herc got every last speck of the drugs and then some. When he finally broke contact, both were panting hard and Scott was staring at him crazy eyed. He had just ignited a fire that would not be put out until one of them was potentially dead. Already he could feel the error he had just made but it didn’t matter. The roar of his blood pumping and reality slipping away drowned out the rumble of get away engines and fire fights. It was a vast improvement, especially when Scott started working his considerable magic.

For a while there was only the ride; rough, aggressive, loud enough to wake the neighbors and the dead, and more than a little bloody. That was the fun part, being surrounded by the deep reds and oranges of passion and pleasure. Being able to _feel_ Scott’s hammering heart like it was his own, not knowing where his body ended and Scott’s began. It had been a long time since he had felt that connected to anyone or thing and it was pure and primal- while it lasted.

The fitful sleep filled with primal things of a completely different nature was not nearly as enjoyable as the sky-high sex had been. Scott passed out completely and slept like the well spent junkie he was; nice and deep. Herc was having the opposite experience. Instead of the blissful, safe darkness his companion was enjoying his night was filled with fire and fear.

More vivid and violent than normal thanks to the alcohol/amphetamine combo, the terrors he was reliving took on larger-than-life form. Nightmares came with the job description, Herc knew that going in, and they were partly why meeting with the shrinks post mission was always ‘mandatory’. It had been months since he had been forced into one of those horrid sessions, one of the perks of fast redeployments, so his subconscious had tons of horrors to choose from. One after another, the atrocities he had seen and sometimes committed were played in psychedelic color seemingly without end.

Hours passed, the sun eventually rose to chase away the shadows of the room, but did nothing to dispel Herc’s ghosts. It did however awaken Scott, who true to habit, need a cigarette or he was going to _die_. Strung out as fuck as he always was in the morning, he shuffled off for a piss and to start the coffee pot. When all three of those extremely pressing needs were sufficiently met he returned to the bedroom to fulfill need number four- a morning quickie.

With surprising grace given the intensity of his hangover, Scott crawled cat like across the bed. Herc was lying face down still sleeping off his impromptu bender like an amateur. Adorable. Scott sat and watched him besottedly for a few heartbeats, unaware of his prey’s intense internal suffering. Gently Scott pressed his lips to the faded scar that adorned Herc’s right shoulder blade and got no response; so he upped the ante and gave his ear a little nip and growled playfully.

With terrifying speed Herc leapt awake and Scott found himself face to face with the barrel of a gun. There was an ominous _click_ that swore it was loaded. Herc stared at him wild eyed, chest heaving, not seeing _Scott_ but acting only on the lingering tendrils of his demons and adrenaline fueled fear. There was only the roar of his heart in his ears and the visceral need to kill, survive, escape.

“Holy fuck Herc!” Scott shrieked and flew backwards. He had been in many strange and dangerous situations in his life, but this was the first time being held at gunpoint; it was _petrifying_. Animal instinct made him hold his trembling hands up in surrender; he was suddenly very aware of his nakedness and vulnerability- and what a headline it would make. “Jesus Christ mate…it’s me!”

Herc held the gun on his target with the coldblooded indifference years of training and killing could bring. His grip was steady and his aim for the center of Scott’s forehead unwavering. The clamor in his head drowned out any recognition of the other man’s terrified voice.

“Come on Herc it’s me….Scotty….” Scott spoke softly, unable to stop the quiver of fear which was mounting by the second. His eyes were practically crossed as he stared down the black hole, which looked _huge_ from this up close and personal distance, and wondered if this was the last thing he would see. “Please stop…..please.”

His fearful supplications seemed to have some effect now; the homicidal glaze to Herc’s ice blue eyes was beginning to fade. The buzzing was beginning to subside and the grip of the imaginary tormentors was lessening. Herc’s tunnel vision started to give way and he became more aware of his surroundings. It only took seconds for Scott’s terrified face to come into focus, and a heartbeat or two more for facial recognition to kick back in.

“What the bloody hell are you doing!?” Scott demanded his voice several octaves higher than normal, even when reaching for high notes.

Herc blinked, and frowned at him. He was suddenly aware of the weight and cold of the gun in his hand. “ _Fuck_. _”_ He breathed lowering it quickly and throwing the safety. “Jesus Scott, I’m sorry…”

Scott was already in motion, reaching for whatever clothing was at hand and beating a hasty retreat. “Don’t…just don’t.” he snarled. He was the one running on fight or flight now, and he was hell bent on the later.

Nauseous as fuck, Herc struggled to grasp the situation. It felt like someone was setting off IED’s inside his skull and he let the gun, which he had no memory of drawing, drop onto the bed heavily. “Hey,” his now weaponless hand reached out for Scott’s arm.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Scott shouted, backpedaling into a large dresser and once again feeling trapped. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you man, but don’t you dare come any closer I swear to god…”

Herc froze in place and took a deep breath. Scott looked like a cornered wild animal with its foot caught in a trap; dangerous and unpredictable. Training reminded Herc that he was an idiot to have left the loaded gun between them, where it was accessible to said frightened animal, but not calling any further attention to it was probably the best way to proceed. “Alright. Take it easy Scotty. I’m sorry.”

Scott wasn’t hearing or having any of it, he only wanted out. This wasn’t his first time waking up in a mad house, but this was the first one he felt he might not make it out of alive- and that was saying something. By now he had cobbled together enough clothes to make an escape that wouldn’t result in another indecent exposure charge, but he couldn’t find his shoes. Fuck it. Still keeping a wary eye on Herc he backed towards the door.

“Scott please,” Herc tried again. This was a disaster and he didn’t know how to fix it. “Baby I am _so_ sorry….let me explain,”

“Nope. Not interested.” Scott booked it thorough the living room trying to keep a low profile in case the gun made a reappearance. Herc followed him at a safe distance trying to keep the intimidation level low. Walking was difficult and more than once he stumbled over some piece of furniture or an empty pizza box muttering curses. This was the hangover from the deepest hell.

After locating his missing shoes Scott pulled them on and reached for the door knob.

“Wait.” Herc barked. He instantly regretted his frustrated Commando tone as Scott froze and shot him another terrified look.

“No Herc. We are done here. _Done._ ” He flung the door open violently and stepped out.

Throwing his previous caution to the wind Herc sprinted to close the gap between them only to have the door slammed hard enough to rattle the windows. “ _And don’t fucking call me!”_ was screamed through the thin, badly painted wood in the approximate vicinity of his face.

Herc stood in silence for minutes, hours, days; he had no idea. The reverberations of the door and the beating drums in his head and chest melded to fill the void. Something was bubbling up inside him now, something dangerous and painful. If he had to name it, and he refused to, it would have been deep loss. Herc didn’t allow himself to feel it long, instead he let the always simmering rage take back over and with a howl of anguish he slammed his fist repeatedly into the wall.

Pain brought back some clarity to his fogged mind, as it always did. The flow of blood from his knuckles was strangely calming and he took one shaky breath after another until his pulse returned to normal. The pain centered him and gave him purpose again, but much to his dismay the dull ache in his chest that wasn’t physical remained full force.

The intense need to throw up in the sink, the blitzkrieg going on inside his brain, the blood making his skin sticky- those were all physical problems he could solve. If nothing else his training equipped him to systematically asses and address them. But that ache, the new and unfamiliar one sitting so deep inside him that he couldn’t bandage or even name; that one Herc had no remedy for.

After hastily wrapping his hand in a towel he cracked a beer and started applying the only dressing he could think of to that new wound. Scott would cool off, he reasoned; once he got off his bender in a few days he would come whoring back around. He was an all sins forgiven type, or so Herc told himself. He _had_ to be, it _had_ to happen; Herc wasn’t sure he knew what he would do if it _didn’t_. Another beer and a smoke into his increasingly panicked evaluation of the situation and his thoughts strayed to the gun.

That fucking gun had just ended the only valuable human relationship in his life, and if all else failed it could end the ache that was gnawing at his soul. It was a part of his job to have a way out, no matter the cost, and at this point it seemed like it might yet be a viable solution. 

**Author's Note:**

> Whoa. This took for EVER....and it got super long. 0.o Hope everyone is okay with that. This was harder to write than I first thought it would be, for some reason they didn't want to speak to me all at once. Sorry for the wait! 
> 
> Title comes from Gary Allan's song "Putting My Misery on Display" from the album "Tough All Over". It's pretty accurate. 
> 
> Honeymoon (as if there ever was one! ) is over. This won't end well for anyone involved. I am not sure where the last chapter (s?) are going with this at all, I am open to headcannoning and discussion. I'm sure the muses will return in a few days, I just need to write some fluffy stuff for a while. BUT I can tell you it won't be happy or pretty. 
> 
> Herc has made a very grave mistake, and it has consequences he can't control and didn't realize he cared about. And Scott...well he's unpredictable and unstable. And there's always the cocaine.....
> 
> Also as a fun note: Happy 1 year anniversary of these stories!! Just realized I posted the first one in March of 2015. wow. Time flies.


End file.
